


Another Victim of Line Up in Line

by modernslashisrubbish



Category: Blur, British Singers RPF, Britpop - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 03:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2134788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/modernslashisrubbish/pseuds/modernslashisrubbish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damon and Justine try to work through the obstacles that come with having a high-profile long-term relationship, even though they're often miles apart.</p><p>Chapter 1: http://archiveofourown.org/works/2134788/chapters/4662222</p><p>Chapter 2: http://archiveofourown.org/works/2134788/chapters/5521253</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Heart Is a Spade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damon and Justine are finishing up their weeklong break at home before heading back out on tour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place August 9th, 1994. “Live Forever” by Oasis is a brand new single, and Blur are heading to Sweden to resume their Parklife tour on August 11th after taking a short break at the end of July. Justine is home for the month in between playing Roskilde Festival and Reading Festival, and Damon has joined her during his brief time off. (I know this is a bit specific, but hopefully the restricted timeframe (which I researched, it's totally accurate!) helps to add some tension.)

“What are you going on about?”

 

Justine was in the kitchen, and the sound of water and plates overpowered the voice coming from the other room. Damon leapt up from the couch and made his way towards her. The water stopped running in time for her to catch him repeating himself.

 

“I was just saying I’m quite liking the book you gave me. It’s gotta lotta sorta interesting things about gender identity and all that.”

 

This was a home that not only housed this young couple, but their interest in social issues, as well. It wasn’t uncommon to find stacks of books about environmentalism, feminism, and at times the questionable porn mag here or there (perhaps even featuring photos and interview snippets from one or both of these self-proclaimed liberal youths).

 

“Learning something about yourself then?” she replied, turning from the sink to Damon with a smirk, almost as if to suggest something about the young man. He could tell.

 

“No! Well, I mean, I’m learning something about everybody, really. I’m definitely learning something about _you_.” He thought he was being clever. He always thought he was being clever.

 

She playfully pushed him with her wet soapy hands, and they shared a laugh. They knew they each possessed a healthy balance of masculinity and femininity, he with his full lips and flirtatious eyes, she with her strong jawline and unshaven body, and both with their short haircuts and thin frames. They liked it this way.

 

The radio on the counter nearby was softly playing, as it always was, and Damon raced over to shut it off once the song changed. Justine didn’t miss a beat; she didn’t need the music on to know the words, or to know how to get Damon riled up.

 

“Maybe! I don’t really wanna know! Where your garden grows!”

 

“Justine, stop it.

 

“I just wanna flyyyy!” She was hopping up and down, hoping to convince her increasingly unamused boyfriend to dance with her. Holding his hands in hers, she couldn’t get him to budge. But laughter, even at his expense, was coming from the mouth of the woman he was in love with, and he knew she was trying to make him smile. He was convinced after all, crooked teeth emerging from between the upwardly curved lips that previously featured the world’s largest pout.

 

“You can turn it back on if ya want,” he reassured her, trying to prove he wasn't really so petty.

 

“No, that’s alright, I’ve already got a whiney British prat right in front of me.” She moved in closer to him, still laughing, still holding his hands. He didn’t like being made fun of, but it always seemed tender when she did it. That, and he thought she was just so lovely that anything that made her smile was worthwhile. He fancied himself as being quite romantically minded.

 

“I wonder what Judith Butler would have to say about the Gallaghers.” Clever and romantic. _The Sun_ 's dreamboat.

 

They pecked each other on the lips innocently. There wasn’t much else they could do; the kitchen was next to the living room, which had no drapes. There were usually fans or otherwise curious onlookers standing nearby outside, always keeping an eye out for whatever scandal they might catch going on in there.

 

Generally it wasn’t much. The two of them were always traveling, and this was the last day of Damon’s weeklong break before heading back out on the road. Justine still had a few more days until gearing up for Reading.

 

A few pecks later and they found themselves wandering up to their bedroom, the least cluttered of all the rooms in the house. As they stood in the doorway, pecks turned to deep kisses, some of the last they’d share before resuming the pop star life.

 

“I’ll miss you when you’re gone again,” Justine said at the end of a particularly long kiss.

 

“I’ll miss you, too,” he reassured, although a little less eagerly. She could tell.

 

There was the pitter-patter of small feet below them, and Justine bent down to scoop up one of the cats scurrying around.

 

“Benjamin will miss you when you’re gone.” She held out the cat’s paws, waving them at Damon, hoping this extension of herself would yield a response from him that was more than a formality.

 

Smiling and waving back, he joked, “I’ll miss him, too. And Mizu.”

 

Benjamin jumped out of her arms, rejoining Mizu on the floor. It started to hit him that the circus of stardom was taking its toll on their relationship. He wouldn’t be seeing her for months, possibly not until the new year started.

 

“I really am going to miss you, Jus,” he uttered as he moved in closer to her, this time really meaning it. As always, he had a way of ruining these loving moments with his pseudo-charm by confidently proclaiming ridiculous sentiments, today’s flavor being, “I’ve yet to meet as remarkable a woman as you on the road.”

 

“Oh, don’t get soppy on me, ya nob.” She could always shake it off with an insult and an eye-roll. They laughed, and their smiles continued once the laughter ended.

 

“I suppose I did meet Marianne Faithfull…” he teased.

 

“Damon! She’s gotta have, like, 30 or 40 years on you!”

 

“She’s still quite lovely.”

 

“Well, I hope you two live happily ever after.”

 

“Nah, I think Alex has got her all to himself. I bet they’re drinking tea and eating cheese in a bathtub together at this very moment.”

 

“That’s too bad, then, because I was thinking of asking Ray Davies to marry me.”

 

“He’s old, too! Hypocrite, you are.”

 

Holding each other in their arms, still smiling, he leaned his face down to kiss her before clarifying, “But really, I’m glad you’re the one who’s here when I come home.”

 

These words stung. Their relationship wasn’t strictly exclusive, and after all, they were self-proclaimed liberal youths, weren’t they? But his way of flaunting it made her feel like she was just the domesticated housewife, “the one who’s here when he comes home.” She'd conquered the world, too, but he always seemed to forget that.

 

This was their last night together, making the cost of an argument too high. And she knew he would argue, as he always did, because he was always so clever. But she had an elegant wisdom he didn’t, and she knew how to let it be.


	2. Vaseline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damon and Justine spend their last night together before they depart for their respective tours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is incredibly smutty, but I really felt like it was important to depict female pleasure and dominance in a sexual setting, especially considering how pretty much every Blur-related fic focuses on homosexual male relationships (and therefore male pleasure and dominance). So here's my insertion in the world of fan fiction declaring that giving girls blowjobs is sexy, putting on condoms clumsily is normal, and vaginas aren't any scarier or complicated than dicks. Ok? Cool.

Justine’s brown eyes were striking, and so were here small perky breasts poking through her Clash t-shirt. Damon was suddenly taken aback by her presence; she didn’t need to confront him. She made it abundantly clear in her simultaneously sexy and sorrowful demeanor that he had yet to comfort or impress her. No matter what other women he’d be spending his time with on tour, they would be mere placeholders for Justine’s eloquent and effortless beauty. But this wasn’t something he could verbalize. He could sell his words for millions of dollars, but never to her.

 

His fierce gaze hit her eyes, lips, shoulders, hips, and he couldn’t stop himself from taking the plunge, grabbing her already close waist and pulling her tighter, so close that no other molecules could fit between them. His washing machine mouth overtook hers, and he was gone. His right hand was stuck firmly on her side, fingers drowning in her skin, while his left lifted the dark fringe from the face hiding beneath. He caressed her delicately at first, but became increasingly hasty in his excitement. He could be quite indulgent if the mood struck him, and she fancied that. She could be quite indulgent, too, and he fancied that as well, always appreciating an equal contender.

 

Upon this acknowledgement that she was more than just a staple of Damon’s home life, Justine was brought back to the love of the moment while her hands glided along his torso underneath his plaid button-up, fingernails lightly pressing into his skin, demonstrating a growing sense of urgency. Too entwined to break free from one another, they stumbled towards the bed, eyes closed, mouths locked. She let her knees bend onto the mattress under her, her back slowly engaging the bed, her lover above her, never missing a step. Feet still hanging off the bed, she kicked her shoes off. As usual, he wasn’t wearing any. Together they shifted their bodies onto the bed completely.

 

Her hands fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, desperately trying to unlock each one so she could get inside. With her legs loosely wrapped around him, his lower half caressed hers in the meantime, jeans protecting them from the impending sin. Once unbuttoned, he pulled his shirt off, with hers to follow, hurling poor Joe, Mick, Paul, and Topper somewhere across the room. After all, rock and roll is the devil’s music.

 

He broke their kiss to take in the sight before him: bare chest moving up and down, heavy breathing a result of heavy petting. And she could see his eyes finally show his admiration for her rather than for himself. At that, she was ready. She gave him a knowing smile, knowing he wanted her, knowing he knew she knew. They both were unstoppable teases. Hell, their careers were based off of it. He gave her the same knowing smile back, challenging her with more of a smirk. He didn’t like to lose.

 

He pulled at her trousers as he bent his head down so that his lips gently but firmly touched her neck, following her shoulder, collarbone, and chest, causing her to involuntarily whimper. Like any womanizing warm-blooded male, his tongue couldn’t resist her breasts, his hands holding them in place as he massaged each nipple with as much of his mouth as possible. Her whimpering turned into soft moans, eyes closed, head back, hands stroking his choppy blond hair. He looked up at her, not breaking from action, and her physical reactions to his efforts were enough to turn him on. He had been home for over a week and he couldn’t remember any other time during his visit that he’d felt so attracted to her.

 

So as to not overstay his welcome, he moved his lips down her body yet again, tongue leaving a trail of saliva from her chest to her ribcage to her belly button, and continuing past her waist to her inner thighs as he freed her legs from the rest of her clothing. She froze in anticipation waiting for the next stop his mouth would make. Finally, he parted the lips of her vagina with his tongue, gently circling her clitoris with the tip of it. She was trembling with pleasure, hoping for more. He held her legs open with his hands on her thighs as he knelt before her, becoming more aggressive as he rubbed her clitoris with the middle of his tongue before sucking it between his lips. Frozen no more, her back arched as she covered her face with her hands. Deep moans escaped between her fingers. She grasped him with her legs, her feet acquainting themselves with his shoulder blades.

 

She was unrelentingly attractive from that angle; he could see all of her, and he wanted all of her. He pushed one of his arms up to remove her hands from her face. With a puppy-dog look he stared into her eyes. It was unbelievable that such an innocent look could be coming from the same man who was giving her such devilish pleasure. Head perched on a pillow, she found him just as arousing to look down at, the sight of his blue bedroom eyes and seductive mouth nuzzled between her hips almost more pleasurable to her than the act itself.

 

Mouth a bit tired, he stopped and sat up, licking his lips. Moving beside her, still leaning over her, he put his hand on her vagina and without hesitation thrust two fingers inside of her mercilessly. The palm of his hand hit her clitoris every time he entered her, and the palm of her hand rested on his neck, occasionally pulling at his hair. The voyeur was biting his bottom lip, hypnotized. He added a third finger, which barely fit, but he was determined. She turned her head away, and upon letting out an especially sharp moan, he stopped, not wanting to spoil the fun just yet. His hand made its way up her body and pawed at her chest as he leaned in to kiss her. Removing his hand from her now damp chest, he sucked her off of his index finger and licked his lips again. He dropped down next to her and looked at her longingly, sticking the same hand he had used on her underneath his belt and into his pants slowly.

 

She sat up and began unbuckling and unbuttoning and unzipping and unclothing his lower half. He stroked himself in anticipation, foreskin moving back and forth in his grip. He waywardly reached for the condom on the end table to the side of the bed and fervently and clumsily slipped it on. Reversing their previous roles, she took control and mounted him, replacing his hand with the inside of her soft body. She shifted her hips back and forth slowly at first. It was necessary to start at a tender pace because of how overwhelming her small frame usually found what he had to offer, and it was no secret that it was a sizable offer that many would be hard pressed to refuse.

 

The way her hair flipped back and forth in front of her face became more unruly as the physical intensity grew. He desperately grabbed at her hips and began to aid the effort by creating a mutual exchange of thrusts. He briefly sat up with Justine still in his lap, their rocking proceeding seamlessly. His mouth found her breasts again, his teeth tenderly becoming lost in her sensitive skin. She scratched at his back instinctively, no other response seeming to adequately express the excitement racing through her head. Her hands found the sides of his face, pulling him in for a kiss and just as quickly pushing him back down onto the bed while his teeth delicately grazed her bottom lip.

 

“Fucking hell, Justine, don’t stop,” he managed to blurt out, interjecting with a staccato of pants and whimpers. She ran her fingers over the hair on his chest and along his neck underneath his swinging beaded necklace, bringing herself to the limit. Nothing but unholy words left their mouths. She aggressively asserted her last moments of dominance over him, but the way his eyes met hers as he verbalized his scattered thoughts caused her to ultimately give in.

 

Their bodies became a mingle of flesh, hair, and passion with her now elated body pressed down to his chest and held tightly in his arms to contain her convulsions, and from underneath her he took over the pulsating rhythm and eventually administered the final shockwaves that escaped through loud exclamations of pleasure from both of them at once. Still clenched in his arms on top of him with her fingernails digging into his shoulders, Justine lifted her head from his chest and looked through her hair to see Damon’s head tilted back and mouth agape as he reveled in the final moments of orgasm. She smiled at her victory; he was clever, but clever ain’t wise, and his lack of wisdom in the bedroom led to his coital demise.

 

He tilted his head back down and lost himself in her eyes for a moment. A compulsive lip-licker, he licked his lips and then licked hers in a tired kiss. She pulled her hips from his and they laid next to each other. Less suave than he'd like, he awkwardly sat on the edge of the bed to remove the spent condom and tidy himself up. She traced the muscles and bones of his back while she anticipated his return. He finally rolled over on top of her and embraced her in a loving cuddle, maneuvering like a couple of playful slobbering dogs eventually into a spooning position, Damon cradling Justine's body in his. She reached for a cigarette and matches from the end table and indulged with him, taking turns passing the cigarette back and forth.

 

No words needed to be spoken to express the feelings between them, but they both searched themselves, to no avail, for the right words to say as reinforcement.

 

“Want the last drag?” Damon asked.

 

“Chivalry’s dead, go ahead and have it,” Justine joked. He chuckled and quickly took a puff and leaned over Justine to extinguish the butt in the ash tray on the end table. “Besides, I’m trying to quit.”

 

He chuckled more. “I don’t believe you.”

 

“What? Don’t you have any faith in me?” she teased.

 

“No, but I’m not very religious, you know that.”

 

“Oh, shut up.” They laughed together. “I could use the support, it’s bloody difficult, especially on the road.”

 

“Well, what if I gave up a vice while I’m on tour too? What should it be, then?”

 

“I don’t know, the silly trade papers make it out like you've got quite a few,” she said, her voice becoming less playful.

 

“For god's sake, Jus, you know not to believe a bloody thing they've got to say. I’ve really mellowed out, you know. I drink a bit but I don’t do anything crazy anymore, really. What if I quit smoking, too? Or...well, I could smoke less, anyway.”

 

She didn’t respond. She didn’t have much to say. She knew how hedonistic he was, especially when he was traveling without her.

 

He hesitated, and he finally realized what she wanted him to say. “Girls? What if I…” He almost instantly regretted the suggestion, but there was no turning back now without seeming like a horrible lover. “I could…be a bit more faithful on the road?”

 

“A bit?” she scoffed, squirming in his arms. “I’m not really sure what that means, Damon, but I-”

 

“Neither of us is particularly innocent, but maybe we could be more forthcoming talking about what we do, _who_ we do, when we’re away from each other, like a grand experiment in long distance communication or something.”

 

“That sounds like it would be impossible for you all the same.”

 

“Come on now, Justine, don’t you have any faith in _me_? You and I just had an incredible time and I’m very much in love with you no matter who else I’ve spent my time with. I really meant it when I said I haven’t met anyone as special as you while I’ve been away, and I don't intend for that to change.”

 

“Look,” she said, exasperated and uninterested in spending their last night arguing, “I appreciate the half-arsed effort, I really do, but I'm not asking you for anything, and we won’t be seeing each other regularly until god knows when. Who’s to say I’ll be able to stay faithful either? I’m no minx like you are but just forget it, Damon, it’s really alright." Her voice lightened up a bit, trying to lift the mood by reverting back to humor. "I can quit smoking without all the relationship drama.” He knew her well enough, though, to know she was a bit disappointed in his highly-publicized promiscuous behavior as of late, and his competitive nature made him determined to regain her trust whether he truly meant to stick to the challenge or not. He nestled his face into the nape of her neck and kissed her skin, gently gliding his nose along her neck up to her ear.

 

“Justine, I really want to do better, alright? Let me.”

 

He knew this would be harder than quitting smoking.


End file.
